Through Laura's Eyes
by gilmoradict
Summary: I have long wanted to explore Laura's relationship with Wilson, as alluded to in my story, Laura,A Look,... Wilson is a sympathetic figure: otherwise Laura wouldn't have loved him. What evolved between them; how would a woman as strong as Laura deal?


"Wilson? I'm heading out for a run."

After a long moment, a door opened and a pair of quiet blue eyes peered out at Laura. "How far are you planning to go?"

"I thought I'd head down to the canal, up and around the school and come back around the park. Do you want to come? I'll go as far as you want."

"No, no. You go ahead and enjoy yourself. You haven't taken a long run in awhile." Wilson started to turn back into his room but paused, turning to pin Laura with a lingering look. "Enjoy yourself, Laura."

"Thanks." A little puzzled by his comment, her brow furrowed a bit, "Maybe we can talk after I get back – share a glass of tea on the patio?"

"Maybe. I've got a lot to get done tonight."

With a slight sigh, Laura nodded and pulled the door softly shut behind her. On the porch outside her door Laura stretched her arms high above her head, willing the tension to flow out of her upraised fingertips. As she slowly bent to rest her palms on the bricks in front of her well worn running shoes, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the diamond paned windows of the little bungalow she had grown up in. Too skinny. A mirthless laugh distorted her lovely features for a moment as she braced her hands on the window sill, leaning forward in a slow stretch of her calf muscles. How often did a woman say _that_ to herself? Always willowy, the stress of the past few weeks was taking a toll. 'Mental note to self: eat regularly,' Laura thought ruefully as she straightened and began an easy lope down the street.

The path she had chosen to run tonight was one she had run hundreds of times through the years, comforting in its familiarity. Each rise, each street she crossed was as much a part of her as her own bones and sinews. Her footsteps followed a route she had first used to escape the unhappiness that had darkened the house when her little brother Teddy had drowned. The well known paths she ran were now not ones of escape but simply places to breathe. Places to think. Places where she could work through the fatigue living out her dream of being a private detective often brought her. Places where she could sort out the knots of her personal life.

"_I have interviewed more impossible housemate possibilities than I care to count. I really do need to find someone to share expenses. And there's plenty of space for two people here. Is there any chance we could talk at another time?"_

"_I'd like that." Wilson walked slowly back up toward Laura. "If you'll give me your number, I'll call and set up a time to meet over a cup of coffee."_

_Laura handed the scrap of paper with her number to Wilson and offered him her hand. "Great. I look forward to hearing from you."_

_Wilson smiled "You know, Laura, my job at the bank involves evaluating risk for my clients. I have a good feeling about our risk factor."_

Laura padded comfortably down the street, finding her rhythm running, her breathing easy and even. Her thoughts wandered to her first meeting with Wilson, seeing their conversation at the front door of the bungalow as if it were yesterday. Those hopeful, inquisitive blue eyes, the tentative smiles. Sharing the house with him had seemed the perfect solution to both their needs. And it had worked so well – they really were compatible housemates. Both worked hard at their respective jobs and needed quiet in the evenings to continue the work their burgeoning careers brought with them. The friendship that grew between them was natural as well. Bumping elbows in the kitchen as they grabbed coffee in the morning, or a quick snack after long days at work. Laura smiled as she remembered their first meal together, eaten standing up in the kitchen.

"_So, Laura, tell me about this private eye thing of yours. It must be challenging at times," Wilson offered shyly. _

"_It is challenging," Laura grinned, "that's part of the fun. Each case is a puzzle to be unraveled. Sort of like a loan document, with maybe just a touch more leg work."_

"_Right. Chasing bad guys, dodging bullets?" Wilson's eyes widened._

_With an outright laugh Laura shook her head. "Not usually. Most of the time it's just looking for evidence, talking to people who might have seen something that might help us figure things out – more brain than brawn."_

"_But the running, the workouts?"_

"_Well, it may come in handy at some point to be quick or agile, but I've always liked sports."_

"_We have that in common then, Laura. I'm a bit of an athlete myself," Wilson said, puffing his chest out just a bit. "What would you say to a tennis match next Saturday?"_

A light sweat began to glisten on Laura's face and arms, evidence that she was providing her body a satisfying challenge. She stretched the neckband of her tee shirt up to wipe the sweat off her face as she ran, adding a little extra effort as she sprinted up a short rise toward the canals. With a puff of breath she laughed to herself. Wilson had been a true gentleman on the tennis court, making their matches pleasant enough, but not much of a challenge. They'd played tennis on a number of occasions, Laura pulling in her associate Murphy Michaels and a girl friend of his for doubles. There were a few rounds of golf, the occasional shared run, even a day of skiing. Wilson was always thoughtful about making plans for their activities, reservations for courts, tee times, and lift tickets for a small resort an hour and a half from LA. Still, it had caught her by surprise when he had asked if she was interested in a dating relationship.

_"Ready to get schooled, Wilson?" Laura asked with a smile._

"_Tennis? Oh, of course, I mean, not if I can help it!" As he swung his racket in a careful arc across his body, Wilson seemed preoccupied. "I'd like to talk to you about something first, Laura. We have half an hour before we need to leave for our court time."_

"_Sure, Wilson. What is it?"_

"_I thought it best if I bring the idea right out in the open for discussion. It's a bit awkward, our living together, I mean, under the same roof; I want both of us could be perfectly clear about what's happening between us." Wilson's blue eyes never left Laura's face as he spoke. "I think we get along quite well, Laura. We share a common work ethic and enjoy many of the same activities. We already know we co-exist quite compatibly. I think it would work out well, for both of us, if we agreed to step our relationship up a bit."_

"_Step our relationship up?" Laura felt a momentary confusion. Perhaps she hadn't been paying close enough attention, what with all the chaos of her apprenticeship, the way she'd thrown herself into her dream of becoming a detective. She hadn't seen Wilson and their occasional tennis game or round of golf as anything but exercise. And still, Wilson was so sweet, so thoughtful, so different than many of the men she dealt with day to day._

"_Laura?" Wilson's blue eyes looked uncertain._

_A slow smile deepened the dimple in Laura's cheek. "I think I'd like that, Wilson. Where do you see this going from here?"_

"_How about the ballet two weeks from Saturday? I was able to procure some wonderful seats through the bank. I am one of their most up and coming junior executives." The momentary shadow left Wilson's face, replaced by one of pride. "I'd like you to be my guest for the ballet, and for dinner afterwards."_

Hitting the deeper rhythm of her run, Laura flew effortlessly along the edge of the canal. As the sun slipped lower in the sky a cool breeze rolled off the channel, brisk enough to dry the perspiration from her skin. This was a favorite part of her run, a quiet oasis in a noisy city. Her relationship with Wilson was like that. A quiet place in her life: a place where things were pleasant, predictable and peaceful. All day at Havenhurst she scrambled, following leads, putting in tedious stretches of surveillance, negotiating access to information, fending off the unwanted advances of chauvinistic detectives, creating alliances where possible with the few other women working there. The hours were long and exhausting, only gradually yielding success. She was close now to completing her apprenticeship, in record time, she thought with a certain satisfaction. Still, each day required constant vigilance. It was wonderful to come home knowing Wilson had made a reservation for dinner, that they had plans to share a glass of wine on the patio, or a date to walk along the beach. Wilson was a wonderful boyfriend. She on the other hand…

"_I'm sorry, Wilson, so sorry. We were following a man we knew had stolen goods in his trunk – we couldn't take our eyes off him or we'd have lost him. I had no way of knowing he was taking the paintings all the way to Ventura. Aren't you at least a little happy that we got our collar?"_

"_Laura, the entire senior staff was at that banquet. Do you know how humiliating it was to have been stood up?"_

"_I can imagine. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I can't always predict when work will run over hours, but listen, next time you ask me to attend something important I just won't take a case that day." Laura leaned in to kiss Wilson's cheek. _

_Somewhat mollified, Wilson took her hand in his. "I don't understand why you put up with the crazy demands of detective work. With your head for numbers you'd be a whiz in the banking field."_

"_I'd be bored to tears!" Laura declared vehemently, seeing the hurt in Wilson's eyes as soon as she'd spoken._

"_Banking is a wonderful career," she added in a softer voice. "It's just that I've always loved the excitement of the chase, of challenging myself not only intellectually, but physically, as well. I'm good at what I'm doing now, Wilson. I love it, even with the crazy, unpredictable hours."_

A couple of young men playing basketball on the courts near the high school whistled at Laura. Smiling briefly without turning her head or shortening her stride she loped past them. It didn't hurt a girl's confidence to have guys take notice, even if she wasn't looking for attention. The thing was, she _wasn't_ looking, not at Murphy or any of the guys she was working with or for. Once he'd initiated their relationship she'd realized Wilson was perfect for her! They had many of the same interests. Her work ethic was similar to his, just applied to a different job. She didn't expect him to change in any way for her, she was confident she could make some minor adjustments that would make her work schedule work for Wilson. Things had smoothed out between the two after that disastrous missed evening.

"_The stars are incredible tonight, aren't they, Wilson?" Laura's nearly whispered her words, in keeping with the pristine purity of the night sky._

_Wilson tightened his arm a bit around Laura's shoulder, smiling in the dark as he looked up at the profusion of brilliant pin pricks of light. "The moon won't rise until nearly 10:00, so the stars aren't hidden by its light. Look! A shooting star! Let's make a wish!"_

"_I know what mine is," Laura said with a smile. After tipping her face up for his gentle kiss, Laura turned in Wilson's arms to lean back against him and gaze dreamily at the sky. _

"_Mine too." Wilson whispered, before continuing in a stronger voice. "Laura, we've been dating for quite some time now. I know you've made a few concessions to assure that your work not impact special events I've asked you to be part of."_

"_I don't mind, Wilson," Laura assured him."It's part of being in a relationship, isn't it? You do a lot of wonderful things for me, too."_

"_Listen. I've been offered a chance to host a group of investors on a trip to Acapulco for a few days. I'd like you to come along. Separate rooms, of course, but you'd be there as my partner, helping me entertain everyone. Sailing, swimming, golf during the day, dinner and dancing in the evening. It would mean a lot to me to have you there."_

_Laura paused for a long moment, questions running through her head. How many days? What fallout would she deal with at Havenhurst if word got around that she'd taken a trip to Acapulco with her boyfriend? His partner? Was this another step up in their relationship?!_

The sun had set by the time Laura entered the park, the heat generated by her run countered now by the cool evening air. The trail she was running was lamp lit, circling the perimeter of the park; she passed other runners on the same well-used path. Laura made a mental assessment of her body. Her breathing was deep, but not strained. She rolled her shoulders once or twice to keep them loose, shaking her arms and flexing her fingers to move the blood from her fingertips. Deeply conscious of each pull of her legs, each tendon stretching out and pulling back as she ran, she felt strong and confident. Confidence. That was part of the problem; her confidence in her own strength, in her abilities at work. Becoming increasingly comfortable with undercover work, she'd found slipping into a new persona the most exhilarating part of investigative work she had as yet explored. Steady, reliable Laura found she could become almost anyone, from a nasal toned clerical worker to a sauntering call girl. Stumbling slightly as she leaped a small dip in the path, Laura recovered and moved on.

"_Wear something sort of fun…sexy, maybe." Wilson looked a bit uncomfortable saying the word. "Pepe's the hottest night club in Acapulco. I'm going down to make sure the table I reserved is ready. Would you like me to come back for you, or can you find your own way there?"_

_Laura laughed as she leaned forward and brushed Wilson's lips with a kiss. "I'll find it Wilson." _

******

_She saw Wilson's eyes as she later walked – no, sauntered- across the crowded room toward him and the investment group he was hosting. His glance widened to take in the sparkling white two piece cocktail ensemble showcasing a long, lean expanse of tanned limbs. She felt sexy. Hadn't that been Wilson's suggestion? Her outfit was perfect for dancing, for the dance club they were in! _

"_Good evening, Laura. You look lovely." Wilson's tone was far less warm than his words suggested._

"_Thank you! Hello! Hi!" Laura turned to greet each of the men at the table. "No wives this evening?" _

"_They were all pretty beat after a day full of sun. We promised we'd make it an early evening. Guess you two kids have other plans!" One of the investors took it upon himself to explain the absence of their "better halves'. "You and Mr. Jeffries go ahead and dance. Don't let us oldsters hold you back."_

The slight thump of each running foot fall brought back the deep rhythm of the band that evening. Laura and Wilson danced and drank some lovely fruity drinks, at least she had. Several of the investors had danced with her, brought her drinks, and laughed with her as the night went on. Laura's face flushed and her head throbbed at the memory. Dance she had, with an abandon and proficiency that surprised she herself and had clearly horrified Wilson. No matter how far she ran, no matter how fast, she suspected she could never outrun the look on Wilson's face as he dragged her from the small stage on which she had been entertaining the crowd, wrapping his suit coat around her shoulders and hustling her from the club. It was just a dance, just in the spirit of Acapulco, of Pepe's, and of the night. Had it really been that bad?

_"Wilson…"_

"_Laura, forget about it. It's over and done. You made quite an impression on the investment group. I doubt they'll ever forget this trip to Acapulco."_

"_That's what you wanted, right?"_

"_What I wanted was to close this deal. With you by my side. I wanted you to see a little more of how I work. I thought if you understood the social opportunities of banking, it would help you make up your mind about becoming a bigger part of that life." Wilson spoke quietly, slowly, his gaze fastened on a point somewhere over Laura's shoulder._

"_You mean instead of private investigation."_

_The words had just hung there in the air between them._

_Wilson sighed. "I've got some paperwork I need to get done before I get to the office tomorrow. Good night, Laura."_

Laura finally slowed to walk the remaining block home, locking her hands behind her head for a moment to stretch. There had been no real repercussions of the trip to Acapulco at the agency. Murphy had teased Laura a little about her hot nights in Acapulco, but apparently seeing the discomfort flash across her face, had kindly let the matter drop. No one else to have even realized she'd taken a few days off. Wilson had been quiet in the weeks since the dance. Scrupulously polite, sharing a pot of coffee in the mornings, meals at night, but definitely quieter than usual. Perhaps he was waiting for Laura to say something more. As she walked, she paused at the fragrance of orange blossoms wafting through the air. Breathing in deeply, Laura sighed with pleasure. Nothing was more soothing to her soul than this familiar perfume. It was one of the joys of living in California.

Suddenly Laura realized that Wilson was, too.

He was part of her life here, a GOOD part. Someone calm, safe and soothing to come home to each evening. Someone who enjoyed golf, tennis and swimming. Someone who enjoyed music, nearly as much as she did. Someone, she realized with a start, that she loved. Someone worth making concessions for. Walking a bit faster, Laura ran past the last few houses, past the white picket fence of the Johanson's house, bouncing up the step to fling the door of the house open.

"Wilson! Can we talk? I think I just realized something!"

*****

Her words seemed to echo. Walking back toward the bedrooms she called out once more, "Wilson?"

Lightly rapping on his door with the back of her hand she smiled, calling out, "I'm coming in. I hope you're decent."

The room was starkly neat, the bed made, closet closed, drapes drawn. A single item was propped against the dresser mirror. Laura picked up the envelope, her name written crisply on the upper right corner. Staring, Laura sat on the end of the bed, toes turned in. As she pulled the flap of the unsealed envelope open, a slip of paper fluttered to the floor, leaving a single note card on which Wilson had carefully penned a note,

Dear Laura,

I apologize for my abrupt departure, but hope this check for three months rent, in addition to my deposit, will tide you over until you can make other arrangements.

You are an amazing woman: bold, courageous and beautiful. I think a part of me will always love you, but I am afraid we are just too different to hope that we could go on together.

I wish you the best always,

Wilson

In a fog Laura walked out of what had so recently been Wilson's room. She walked down the short hall to the piano her grandmother had given her. Setting Wilson's note on the music stand she placed her left hand on middle "C", playing up the scale as she ticked names off in her mind. Teddy, her father, her grandmother, her mother, Frances. Each had lived under this very roof with her. Each had left.

And apparently so had Wilson.

He loved her. At least he had. That was good to know.

But Laura knew enough about love to realize that loving or being loved was not a guarantee that people remained part of your life.

Moving into a melodic if melancholy series of minor chords and progressions, Laura's hands unconsciously caressed the keys of the piano as music flowed into the room. Music had been almost as healing in the years following Teddy's death as had running. There was comfort to be found in composers Lanz, and Debussy. She had turned to twin consolations, motion and music when her father had left and when Grandmother had died. Tears ran unnoticed down Laura's cheeks from under her lashes as she played. Finding strength for this moment in the surety of ivory and foot peddle, Laura gradually transitioned to Gershwin. With finely calibrated feeling Laura's music filled the rooms of the small house. Piece after piece flowed from her fingertips, her tears drying on her cheeks, until a last lingering chord hovered boldly around her. Abruptly, Laura stood, taking Wilson's note from the music stand. Tearing it into fragments, she allowed these to fall to the floor.

Love wasn't a guarantee that someone stayed part of your life, Laura thought, but it was an unacceptable inclusion in a good-bye.

Straightening her spine to walk as tall as five-foot-four can, Laura deliberately shaped her features into a smile. Walking from room to room she caressed the familiar objects in each with her eyes. Gran's piano, the photograph of her with Grandfather, the framed musical scores, the shelves of favorite, often re- read books, the worn kitchen table, the bunny prints on the walls. People may come and go, but home remained tangibly, reliably solid. Her smiled broadened as she stripped her work-out clothes from her body and strode confidently down her hallway, through her bedroom door, and into her shower, tossing the clothes into the hamper there.

Home. Like Scarlet, in _Gone With the Wind_, there'd be time to think everything through tomorrow.

Tonight it was enough to be anchored here, in her home.


End file.
